


In Need of a Friend  (The Smoky Blues Remix)

by Highlander_II



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Community: remix_redux, F/M, Mention of Minor Canonical Character Death, Remix Redux, Remix Redux 10: X Marks the Spot (2013), Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Amber, Wilson seeks solace in the blues and beer.  He gets a little help from a friend as a bonus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Need of a Friend  (The Smoky Blues Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Topaz_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In This Together](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27236) by [Topaz_Eyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Topaz_Eyes/pseuds/Topaz_Eyes). 



> Many thanks to the beta to be named later.

The weather seemed content to match his mood. Heavy clouds, dark and slow, dripping rain at an almost leisurely pace. Wilson watched the big drops splat like bugs against the windshield.

Amber's death had settled over him like one of those dark grey clouds. He still kept expecting to see her car outside the building or hear her come in after a late shift. It never happened. When the realization would set in, he would find himself trying to hide under the covers. Even though he told himself to remember the good times, the happy times, he couldn't always manage it.

He was trying to pull together happy thoughts of his life with Amber as he turned his car into the gravel lot outside the very-nearly-ramshackle building. It looked exactly the way he pictured a blues tavern would look. He'd only been to New Orleans that one time, but he'd never ventured much farther than the hotel lobby for most of the convention, so he didn't really know what a blues tavern or bar or club would look like. But, this place, was what came to mind when he imagined one.

Gravel crunched under his feet and rain splashed on his head and shoulders as he approached the door. The nearer he got, the more he could feel the deep bass beats of the music. Not the loud raucous noise like kids in their 'pimped out' rides that thump so loud it rattles your brain, but the warm basso heart of the music. It drew him in.

Inside, it was smoky and sticky. It was perfect. The smell of alcohol lingered everywhere. He couldn't figure out why a layer of smoke seemed to hang in the air, since no one in the place was smoking - thanks to New Jersey laws - but it didn't matter once he heard the almost tinny sound of the piano being played in the corner. He caught himself wondering if House would hate the sound.

Conscious effort was the only way to shove that thought away. Tonight had nothing to do with House. Tonight was all Wilson.

He ordered a beer and found a small table near one wall. It was shadowed enough that he didn't feel exposed, but gave him a good view of the room and the length of the bar.

The music filled the room in a way he had never known the heavy dance music of other clubs to do. The live band probably helped with that. Live music and decent beer. It almost felt like his college days. Only, in college, it was bad beer and likely heavy metal. He liked the blues better.

He had just ordered his second beer when he saw a familiar face at the bar. Glass stopped half-way to his mouth, he stared, stunned for several seconds. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and reminded himself that it was possible for two acquaintances to randomly end up at the same location on the same night. Despite House's insistence that coincidences didn't exist.

When he realized he had let his thoughts drift to House again, he downed his beer and ordered another. The warmth of the alcohol let him begin to relax.

Wilson was getting into the music, really feeling it, when a pretty blonde approached his table and took a seat. Had there not been a beer along with the woman, he might have growled more. When he realized the woman was Cameron, his face softened.

"Hi," he said and thought his voice sounded sad.

She offered a soft smile and said, "Hi. You look like you could use this," as she slid the beer to him.

Wilson laughed, a hollow sound lately. "I've already had a couple."

"I know." A brief pause, then, "It won't help. Not really. But it has a warm, numbing affect for a while."

"Ah," he raised the glass to her, "the voice of experience." He took a generous sip of the beer.

Cameron smiled at him again. "Something like that." She drank from her own glass. Then, the look on her face shifted a little. "Are you drunk enough to dance with me?"

That made Wilson laugh a bit. "I don't have to be drunk to dance with you, Dr. Cameron."

"You're just not drunk enough to call me 'Allison'?"

Another chuckle, still laced with a hint of sadness, but it was genuine. "Sorry. Habit." He rose from the table and held a hand to her. "Care to dance, Allison?"

She finished off her beer, took his hand and waved to the dance floor.

Wilson curled an arm around her waist and had an immediate desire to have Amber back. He almost spun Cameron into the center of the floor by pure reflex. He caught himself, then managed to settle his cheek beside Cameron's ear. She was a little tense in his arms for a moment, but he felt her ease into the movements as the music picked up tempo.

As they danced, Wilson recognized the song as one he'd heard a friend's parents play a few times. It was a cover this time, but the song was the same. He couldn't recall the name through the fog in his brain, but something about 'burnin' hearts' and 'crazy dreams'.

Near the end of the song, Wilson felt his lips brush Cameron's mouth. Then it turned into a full on kiss as the song began to wind down. What was he doing?

He could hope she hadn't noticed. But that was stupid. He was pretty sure she noticed a kiss to her own mouth. Maybe she wouldn't realize that he had been thinking of Amber. That, he at least had a chance for, he hoped.

She didn't say anything and she didn't pull away. He took both of those as neutral signs - neither good, nor bad.

When the music slid into the next song, Cameron kept dancing. The pace was faster and it meant she was at arm's length for part of the steps, but he joined in. It was fun. Exhilarating. And, given the way she let her hips grind against his on some beats, arousing.

They were stepping into the cool, moist, night air before he realized they'd moved off the dancefloor. Behind the club, it had stopped raining and smelled of cigarette smoke and garbage. If Cameron hadn't been nibbling on his neck, he might have insisted they go back inside.

It took a few seconds for his muddled brain to catch on to the scene. Cameron's knee pressed against his groin was the first clue. Her fingers wiggling beneath his shirt was the second.

He almost stopped her before she got his pants undone. But her fingers curled around him and he nearly lost his balance. He heard her whisper something to him, then he lifted her from the ground, curled her legs around his hips and entered her swiftly.

It was over almost before he was aware of what they were doing. There, against the wall, with her skirt rucked up around her waist and his trousers around his knees. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't even sensual, but it helped. More than he expected it to.

He lowered her to the ground, making sure she had her feet under her before drawing up his pants. She smoothed out her skirt, then placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "It doesn't get any easier. It just gets farther away." She pressed her lips to his other cheek. "My husband died today." A sigh and a little shrug. "Years ago now, but I still remember."

He saw her trying to offer up a soft smile to him. He saw it getting caught in the sadness. He folded his arms around her for a moment and whispered a 'Thank you' into her hair.

When he woke up on his couch the next morning, the sound of his cell phone screaming at him at too-early-o'clock, he didn't remember letting Cameron go or getting home. The message on his phone told him his car was still at the bar and he'd need to go pick it up soon. The note on his coffee table didn't fill in any more memory gaps, but it did help him feel better about missing Amber:

_I'm here if you need a friend to talk to. - Allison_

He didn't miss Amber any less, but he felt less alone when he did miss her.


End file.
